


Away From the Past

by Stephen_Tony_Loki27



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Castlevania - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 09:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19721146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stephen_Tony_Loki27/pseuds/Stephen_Tony_Loki27
Summary: Ruæyn Duff is the youngest and last of her centuries old Scottish clan and ancient family, but she is no human. The true ‘Mother Nature’, she fights to hide her identity and protect the wild lands and their life. As a skilled sorcerer in a time of hideous witch hunts, it is crucial that nobody finds out who she really is. But when she is betrayed by the one person from the village who she began to spend some time with, she is reminded as to why she always kept her distance. That was until, in a mad dash to escape, she transported herself to a dark castle, and into the arms of a vampire with an even darker story.





	Away From the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome on board everyone! This is an Alucard | Adrian Tepes / Ruæyn Duff (an OC, pronounced roo|ay|n) from the reader’s perspective. There’s bound to be some violence somewhere (I mean it’s Castlevania ..) and there is angst. I hope you enjoy!

I was sobbing at this point. It was quiet, but nonetheless undeniable. I didn’t ever cry; it wasn’t in my nature. But this time, this was one step too far. I couldn’t keep on doing this. I ran aimlessly, just to get away from there, away from that trap, that prison. That home. The shouts rose behind me to try and make me stay, but my decision was made. No more. Feet pounding on the cart track, my only goal was to get away from all of them, before I did something I would regret.  
When I stopped, it was by the side of an ancient oak, gnarled branches curling and cracking over the pathway, trying to block out the full moon. I would have collapsed there, stayed until morning and moved on in my own time, but then came the voices again. Growing steadily louder in pitch and anger.  
“Witch!”  
“Unholy!”  
“Creature from the Pits of Hell!”  
I gritted my teeth and kept on running. The tears flowed freely down my face and danced within my auburn hair, my green and brown eyes squinted tightly to maintain some semblance of vision. I folded my hands into a position in which I could shift energy; the first two fingers together, the other two fingers tucked under the thumb. Still moving, I drew out burning red patterns in the night air, the rune forming quickly in front of me. In a harsh, rapid motion, I drew my right hand down the centre of it, splitting it apart and opening up the matter surrounding it. Without so much as glancing through the portal to investigate my destination, I leapt through, away from the angry villagers and hopefully to give some ease to my pain.  
My landing was not an easy one. I fell haphazardly onto an old wooden floor, spinning several times before my back slammed into a stone wall. With the wind knocked out of me, I let out a strangled cry of pain, but got no further. The tears were flowing free and fast now, my lips were pulled back and my teeth revealed in the agony of betrayal, nails scratching uselessly into the ground. When these heaving, silent sobs became deep breaths, I finally picked up on the sounds coming from the next room. I tensed briefly, instinct taking over as I assessed the unknown presence. That was until I realised that this person was crying as well.  
Limping, sporting a split lip and bleeding limbs, I slowly made my way in, leaning heavily on the doorframe. The sight that greeted me was a room of similar type to the one I had landed in, but a picture of a women with long blond hair hung to my left, and in the middle there was a solitary, mahogany, high-backed chair. The person occupying it had a similar reaction to my own in the other room, clearly coming to the same conclusion that I had. I noticed the person’s hair was the same as the woman’s in the painting, but as he raised his head he revealed glinting golden eyes and fangs, face awash with tears he was now trying to prevent. Maintaining eye contact, I managed to stagger in a few steps before my legs gave out from under me and I fell to my knees at the foot of his chair.  
He was leant forward in it, elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. We met each other’s eyes with equal looks of despair, faces so close they were almost touching, before I fell forward and curled in on myself, resting lightly on his legs. I looked up to him through wavering vision.  
“Are ... are you al-alright?” I mentally frowned at how weak my Scottish voice sounded. Despite the vampyre’s own misery, he paused, as if working something out.  
“You yourself are in agony, yet you ask after someone like me first?” Asked a softly cracking deep voice.  
“Of course,” I replied, “I intruded here. I am-“  
“Welcome. So very welcome here.” With that, he sank down to the floor with me and we held each other whilst we cried, just two strangers sobbing away the sorrows of their pasts, together.


End file.
